Maddie’s World
IT’S Ruby’s third birthday. To be honest, it’s lucky she’s reached that milestone in this household. Not because there’s anything wrong with her that a good jolt of discipline wouldn’t put right.
No, it’s because six months after we got her as a lively one-year-old, I almost gave her back.
We bought Ruby as a friend for Arty because we thought Number One Dog might be a little bit lonely all on her own.
Like Arty, Ruby came to us as a rescue dog.
She hadn’t been mistreated or anything, but her previous owner had a serious health problem and couldn’t look after her any more.
As a result, she had spent a lot of time locked up in her crate.
We were told Ruby was a very well-mannered girl, but didn’t have much of an interest in food, unlike Arty, who is the greediest dog on the planet.
Remember, Arty once famously wolfed down an entire apple cake made by Mr Grigg’s cousin and left to cool on a rack on the kitchen worktop.
She also had a problem running around the boundary fence, looking for a way out.
But it was all right, I felt I could handle both those things. I could build up her weight by giving her food she would be interested in.
I could keep working on her recall command, to stop this constant skirting of the boundaries.
Not long after we first picked up Ruby, we rather foolishly took the two dogs to the annual family picnic.
Every year, up to 40 relatives on my mother’s side gather in a country park just across the county border into Somerset.
Rather than tempt fate, I kept both dogs on their leads.
Ruby was tremendously excited and then, much to our dismay, proceeded to have a fight with Arty.
She was clearly trying to demonstrate that, although she was little, she wasn’t afraid of “Top Dog”.
How I envied my cousin’s son, sitting on a rug while his four spaniels lay quietly at his feet as everyone had their picnic.
I spent all afternoon standing up, holding the dogs tightly on their leads, knowing that if I relaxed Arty would gobble up the scotch eggs and Ruby would slip her leash and do a runner.
By then, she had already revealed her escaping prowess.
She had jumped over the fence on the village playing field and gone missing for half an hour.
When she finally returned, she proceeded to get out under the chicken wire, squeezing through a gap anyone would think was barely wide enough for a ferret.
This continued to the point where I almost gave up and vowed I would contact her breeder to take her back. But I persevered and
I’m glad I did.
She has the sweetest nature, and as a companion in the house or shed she is just lovely.
She curls up at my feet in the
In her weekly column, Maddie Grigg shares tales from her life in rural Dorset . . .
Shed of Dreams and lurks around in the evenings, hoping to be invited up on the sofa.
But she will still do a runner given half a chance.
She is obsessed with chasing birds, squirrels and other wildlife, which is natural until you realise we have sheep in the fields near us and she still won’t respond to the recall command.
So now Ruby remains on the lead unless we are in an absolutely secure area.
One of the beaches near us is ideal, as it has a high wall at the back and boulders at either end, so she can run along the shoreline to her heart’s content and I can practise her recall training.
I love this dog with all my heart. I’ve never had such a bond with an animal before.
She is always there in the morning, sitting in her bed and then grabbing her cuddly toy and nuzzling in to me.
I think she’s a keeper. ■